


inadequate

by rhysgore



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, Dirty Talk, M/M, Size Kink, victim blaming language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23166751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysgore/pseuds/rhysgore
Summary: he wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of a hand around his throat
Relationships: Iskandar | Rider/Waver Velvet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	inadequate

**Author's Note:**

> the emphasis in CNC is heavily on the NC. you've been warned. enjoy.

He wakes in the middle of the night to the feeling of a hand around his throat, and his mind blares  _ danger  _ at him almost immediately. Even before his eyes open, he’s thrashing back and forth, trying to free himself from whoever is on top of him. In response, the hand grips him tighter, hard enough that his jaw hurts, and someone growls at him, low and dangerous.

“Scream and I’ll break your neck.”

The familiarity of the voice gives Waver pause, and he stops moving. When he opens his eyes, Rider is leaning over him, knees on either side of his chest, the bed sagging under his weight. He’s a familiar sight, but the expression on his face- contemptuous and cruel- is not, and even  _ knowing,  _ Waver feels fear seep through him, freezing him in place. 

“Understand?” Waver nods as much as he’s capable of, and Rider releases him. His jaw aches faintly, and he tries to rub it, only to have his wrist pinned to the bedspread by an iron grip.

“Hey-” he starts to say, tugging at his immobilized hand, and Rider silences him by hauling back and smacking him across the face. It’s not as hard as it  _ could  _ be, but it  _ stings,  _ and Waver can feel his eyes tearing up almost immediately.

“Be silent,” Rider warns him. “I’ve had enough of your backtalk, boy. You claim to be my master, but all you can do is complain.” He laughs, the noise harsh, humorless. “How are we supposed to win this war that way?”

Waver flushes, furious and embarrassed. “I  _ could  _ win it if you would just  _ listen-” _

He stops himself this time when Rider raises his hand again, the threat obvious. Pressing his lips together, Waver glares up at his servant. His heart is fluttering, nervous, waiting to see what the man wants with him.

“I could easily kill you, but what good would that do me? I would just be sent back to the Throne, no closer to my goal than before,” Rider says, sighing, as if the whole thing is just one big  _ annoyance.  _ “As much as I loathe to admit it, I need you alive.” His contemptuous sneer returns, and he stares down at Waver through narrowed eyes. “But there are  _ plenty  _ of things I can do to you while still keeping you breathing.”

He lowers his weight onto Waver’s chest, not enough to crush him, but enough to trap him in place, enough to let Waver feel the heavy bulge in his shorts. Waver’s eyes widen, and he starts to thrash again, legs kicking as he struggles to break out of Rider’s hold. It’s a pathetic and pointless gesture- Rider has a foot and at least a hundred pounds of pure muscle on him. Trying to fight against him is akin to trying to fight the undertow as he’s being dragged out to sea.

Still, Waver tries. Rider lets him, watching with what seems like amusement as Waver wears himself out. When Waver stops to catch a shuddering breath, he places a hand flat against his Master’s chest, pinning him to the bed effortlessly.

“Are you done?” He asks. “You can answer that.”

“Get _off_ me,” Waver gasps, shaking again. He grabs at Rider’s wrist, ineffectually. The terror is setting in- even if he’s not in danger of dying here, rape isn’t an alternative he’s particularly keen on. “You idiot, you can’t-”

With a hideous ripping noise, his nightshirt is torn straight off of his body. Rider doesn’t bother trying to undo the buttons- the fabric shreds like tissue paper in his massive hand, leaving Waver’s chest exposed. It’s nothing Rider hasn’t seen before, but Waver’s instinct is still to cover himself, to ward off the horrible feeling of vulnerability that comes with it.

“Oh?” Rider says with a chuckle. “You blush here, too.” He presses his palm to Waver’s sternum, drinking in the sight of his red-flushed skin before tweaking one of his nipples roughly. “How  _ cute.” _

“S-stop.” Waver hates how weak he sounds. He can’t help it- that part of him has always been sensitive. He squirms under Rider, trying not to make any noises that might indicate he’s  _ enjoying  _ being touched against his will.

“Be as stubborn as you like. It won’t change anything.” Rider says. Effortlessly, he lifts his weight off of Waver just enough to be able to flip him over. On his belly, face smushed against the mattress, Waver can only kick pathetically as his pajama bottoms are given a similar treatment to his shirt, coming away from his body in shreds, fully exposing him to Rider’s eyes and wandering hands.

He grinds his clothed erection lazily against Waver’s bare backside, letting his Master feel the full size and weight of it. It comes as no real surprise that he’s  _ huge,  _ cock matching the rest of his stupidly gigantic body, and Waver pales, struggling to lift his head away from the sheets.

“You  _ can’t,”  _ he gasps, frantic, terrified. “I- you’re too-” 

He swallows down on the humiliating confession. Rider seems to have gotten the gist of it, if the way he cages Waver in with his arms is any indication, leaning down to murmur in his ear.

“Too  _ what,  _ boy?” He asks, punctuating the question with a roll of his hips. This close, he’s an overwhelming presence- the heat of his body, the heady scent of his sweat, the looming threat of the weight rubbing against Waver’s ass. When Waver doesn’t answer, Rider bites his shoulder, hard enough to make Waver whimper in pain, hands flexing and grabbing at the sheets as he tries to stifle the humiliating noises he’s making. “Come on now, you’re usually so  _ talkative.” _

Face burning, Waver tries to turn his face into the bedspread, but Rider grabs him by the hair, yanking his head back. Waver yelps, the pain of it startling him.

“Say what you were going to say,” Rider tells him, tightening his grip.

Waver feels tears prickling up in the corners of his eyes. He tries to compose himself, to no avail.

“You- you won’t fit,” he finally concedes, choking out a sob to accompany it. “You’re too- too big.”

The hand in his hair loosens, and Waver falls back onto the bed with a  _ whumph,  _ landing face-first in the mattress. Behind him, he feels Rider shift, and then the weight of  _ something  _ on his back, cushioned by his asscheeks.

“Flattering, but that’s not entirely true, is it?” Rider down the curve of his waist, coming to grab his rear, casually possessive. “I’ve  _ seen _ what you keep in the bedside drawers. My Master’s a cockslut, isn’t he?” Casually grinding against him, hips moving in lazy, dirty circles, almost a  _ brag. _ “I bet you’ve been thinking about me doing something like this, haven’t you? Pinning you down and taking you, whether you liked it or not.”

Waver blushes furiously at that, shaking his head. “Like I would ever let a brute like you have your way with me,” he sneers. He knows that antagonizing Rider is probably not a smart thing to do at the moment, but he’s not about to take his Servant’s insults lying down. “I’m not  _ easy.” _

He doesn’t get a warning before Rider pushes two fingers into him, huge and hot and slick, undoubtedly with the pilfered contents of the drawer Rider had mentioned. Gasping, Waver squirms harder, trying to wiggle away from the foreign feeling- Rider’s fingers are so much  _ bigger  _ than his, and they stretch him without any degree of mercy. Rider’s hand pressed firmly against his back means struggling gets him next to nowhere, however. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Rider says above him. “You certainly act like it.”

He wants to object, tell Rider to get  _ off  _ of him, to stop before he goes any further, but at that moment, Rider’s fingers rub inside of him just right, and a desperate, breathy moan comes out in place of the blistering insult he’d wanted to say. 

Rider pauses for a moment, and Waver can picture his expression, that smirk he makes when he  _ knows  _ he’s right about something. It makes Waver grind his teeth together, frustrated to the point of tears by his own inability to do anything about his current situation.

“At least your body is honest.” Rider’s voice is smug, and the sound of it makes Waver shiver.

“S-shut up,” he mumbles, wishing it sounded more threatening than it actually does. “I’m not… not  _ enjoying  _ this.”

“Are you sure?” Without warning, Rider pulls his fingers out, and Waver barely has any time to react before he’s flipped over again onto his back, legs forced apart so Rider can kneel between them. Like this, he feels even more horribly exposed- naked, flushed red from his face to his chest, his erection leaking against his stomach.

_ When had he gotten hard?! _

Instinctively, he tries to cover himself. Rider bats his hands away, grabbing Waver’s thighs and pulling him closer. In this position, Waver has no choice but to look at him- he’s so big it’s impossible to look anywhere else- and seeing Rider’s dick next to his own makes his mouth go dry. 

“No,” he gasps, shoving at Rider’s chest. It’s almost hilariously pathetic- he can no more move his Servant than he can a brick wall- but he feels the need to try something,  _ anything  _ to stop Rider from hauling him up by the waist, lining the head of that absurdly huge cock up with his hole. “Please- please, don’t,  _ please-” _

His pleading turns incoherent, devolving into a shriek as Rider thrusts home. His body feels like it’s on fire, the meager stretching he’d been given not nearly enough to prepare him for Rider’s sheer  _ size.  _ Waver’s hands fly up instinctively to Rider’s shoulders, clinging to him desperately.

“You feel incredible, boy,” Rider tells him, and Waver  _ sobs. _

“Please,” he moans, voice strung out into a pathetic, reedy whine. “Please, stop, I- I can’t take it, I-”

“Nonsense,” Rider says. His chastization is punctuated with a sharp thrust, one that makes Waver choke, fingers scrabbling at Rider’s arms. “Why would I stop when we’ve only just discovered where your true talents lie? It would be best for you if you abandoned those grand dreams of yours- you make a far better cocksleeve than conqueror.”

Any response Waver would have had to that is lost when Rider thrusts into him again, punching the breath out of his lungs in one forceful stroke. He’s practically folded in half, waist bent so his knees almost touch his chest, with Rider draped over him, restraining him as well as any straitjacket. In this position, he can see the entire length of Rider’s thick cock pistoning in and out of him, his hole stretching obscenely wide to accommodate it. 

He wants to look away, but when he tries, Rider grabs him by the hair, pulling his head back, forcing him to pay attention to what’s being done to him.

“How does that feel, boy?” Rider asks him, and Waver can feel tears spilling down his face. He can’t hold them back anymore. He feels like he’s going to be torn in two, like Rider is going to fuck _through_ him and not even notice, like he’s going to die impaled on his Servant’s cock. He feels-

“G-good,” he croaks out. He’s crying in earnest now, unable to stop, the pain mixed with the rush of pure sensation simply too much for him to handle. He can feel his mind bending, coping with the brutality of rape by overwhelming him with endorphins, flooding his entire body with pleasure. His skin is on fire where Rider is touching him. “So-  _ good.” _

“There’s a good boy,” Rider says. His breath is coming short, skin shining with sweat as he drives himself into Waver again and again, unrelenting. Every movement makes his heavy balls slap against Waver’s backside, adding to the cacophony of filthy noises. “Now- why don’t you thank me for showing you your  _ true  _ purpose?”

“Thank- ah-” Waver’s eyes briefly flutter shut, a particularly hard thrust making him see stars. “Thank you for s-showing me- my-  _ oh-”  _ His speech is slurred, words barely getting out among his incoherent moans of pleasurepain. “My- my-”

He comes with a howl, back arching, legs twitching where they’re wrapped around Rider’s waist, making a mess of himself as he does. 

Vaguely, he realizes that Rider is laughing at him.

_ “Slut,”  _ the man growls, and all Waver can do is nod in agreement, head lolling back and forth as Rider continues to pound into him. He  _ is  _ a slut- a filthy, debased cockslut who came from being mercilessly raped.

Rider continues to fuck him, using Waver’s limp body like a blow-up doll. The overstimulation grates against his already frayed nerves, but Waver doesn’t have the energy to do anything but whimper and shove weakly at Rider’s chest. It takes what feels like an eternity of sliding up and down against the sheets for Rider to finally come, painting Waver’s insides with his seed. When he pulls out, it trickles out of Waver’s abused hole, pooling between his thighs.

Staring up at the ceiling, Waver catches his breath. Slowly his thoughts return to him from where they’ve scattered, and he tries to sit up, only to find Rider is lying on top of him, gigantic and immoveable.

“Get off,” he mutters, annoyed.

“Already done,” Rider replies, and Waver rolls his eyes.

“C’mon. I don’t want this drying on me, it’s gross.” Now that they’ve both slipped out of their respective roles, Rider’s cum on his legs is starting to feel less sexy and more sticky. When his Servant continues to remain immobile, Waver groans, shoving at his shoulders.  _ “Rider.” _

“Not yet. Rest for a few minutes.”

If he’s worried that handling his Master roughly  _ now  _ is what’s going to hurt him, Rider has another thing coming. Waver wants to argue with him, but he quickly finds he doesn’t have the energy to do so. Rider’s weight on top of him is comforting rather than oppressive, and as dirty as he is, he’s not about to get any dirtier just lying there for the moment.

“Fine,” he huffs.

Rider smiles at him, ruffling his hair with almost excessive gentleness. "Good," he says.

**Author's Note:**

> the mackenzies: y'all hear smth?
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/maverickminuano)


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